by Amber Lacie
“Piper,” he seethed. “I thought we were done with this. I thought you had learned your lesson. I will not ask again––beg or I will do things to you that will make you wish for death.”
Too late. I had prayed for death more times than I could even count. What I truly wanted was to watch them burn for what they had done to me. Knowing I couldn’t revel in that moment, made my act of rebellion worth it. At least for a moment, I was more powerful than them.
My body shook from the fisted blow laid to the side of my face. He had stopped slapping me months ago, saying I deserved to be treated that way. I had earned it. Stumbling to the side, I grasped onto the back of a red armchair. Each time he hit me it felt deeper, stronger. My vision swayed as I turned to look over my shoulder at the man who I feared more than death itself.
“You should’ve begged,” he said, his voice threatening. I watched as he stepped towards me. Most people would cover their face or cower, but it made no difference to him. If he hit me hard enough I would pass out and I wouldn’t have to feel the rest. Sometimes, that seemed like the better option.
Another punch. The room swayed again as I watched his smirk turn into a growl. My head jerked back as he grasped my hair, pulling at the roots. Little white spots appeared in the corner of my vision. It wouldn’t take much more. Soon I would be limp on the floor at his mercy, but I wouldn’t remember it. I’d deal with the pain of waking up later.
Maybe, just maybe, this time I won’t have to. As he slammed my body into the ground I prayed for sleep, I prayed for death.
Days Later
A train had slammed into my body, burying it deep into the mattress. No, that wasn’t a train––it was Saint. Fuck. I’m awake. A gargled grunt left my lips as his hand wrapped around my throat.
“It’s no fun when you pass out, Mouse. I was nice and let you have a few days to think, now it’s time to play.” The sound of the nickname he gave me crawled against my skin like maggots on rotting corpse. They ate at me each time I heard them. I always wondered if I ever made it out of there, if there would be anything left of the girl I once was. In the end, it didn’t matter. I already knew the truth––she died a long time ago.
Gasping for air, I pulled at his fingertips. Moving his large body on top of mine, he straddled my chest, keeping me pinned to the dirty mattress as I tried to kick myself out from underneath him. Sadly, even if I escaped, there was nowhere for me to go. My body relaxed, and my bare legs fell in defeat. A thin white shirt was the only barrier left between us.
“That’s a good girl. You already fought me once, and you lost. Now, tell me why you won’t eat.” His long, rough fingers relaxed their grip and slowly moved down my body, pulling one of my breasts free from my shirt.
My body shivered at the invasion. “I’m not hungry.”
Pain seared through my body as his tattooed hands gripped my breast, squeezing and pulling it hard. “Lies. You know better. Now, try again.”
Any time I was with Saint, I would focus my attentions on his tattoo covered arms and neck, using them as a way to disconnect. They seemed to be the only skin he ever exposed. In the back of my mind, I always wondered why. However, there were rumors that he kept the rest of his body hidden because of the marks left on him by Ox.
One night, I was lying on the floor, blacking in and out from another run-in with Saint, when I heard Roscoe’s voice outside my door followed by Saint’s. I always assumed if there were an actual chain of command, it was Ox, Roscoe, Saint, and then Bull. But I was never certain. What I did know was that Saint reported to Roscoe, and they both worked for Ox.
That night I was in and out of consciousness, the only information I remember is hearing Roscoe say that a girl had tried to run from Ox, but he caught her. Saint hissed and asked what happened to her. Roscoe clicked his tongue before lowering his voice. ‘He had her skinned and hung in his garden. Such a sick, twisted fuck.’ After that night, the thought of some poor girl’s body dripping blood over a bed of roses cemented itself in my mind.
I had never met Ox, and I was willing to do whatever it took to avoid it. And staying in Saint’s good graces was my only option. So, I told him the truth. “I want to die.”
“Of course you do, but I’m not going to let that happen.” Releasing his hold on my breast, he slid his legs down my body, stopping at my thighs. The tightness in my jaw grew as his hand followed suit, finding its way between my legs. “You’ll eat because if you don’t I’ll make you beg for death and never release you. What’s better? Hanging on at the brink of death while your mind fights your body for survival, or this room I so kindly gave to you?”
Fuck. A broken sob escaped my lips. “This room. Please.”
“Are we begging now? Please what?” His hand continued to move between my legs, my body betraying me as it slickened against his touch.
No. No. No. Make it stop. “Food. Please, let me eat. I’ll eat. I promise.” His fingers stilled, and a hopeful breath filled my lungs.
“Now that’s my girl. I knew you’d see things my way.” His deep voice scraped against my ears as he pulled his hand from between my legs. The sound of his boots hitting the floor as he stood gave me another relieved breath. Quickly grabbing the ratty sheet on the end of the bed, I wrapped it around myself tightly as I pulled my knees to my chest.
I hated when any of them touched me, but Saint’s touch was the worst. The others would get their fill of torment and leave me alone. Not him. No, Saint would watch me as I ate just to make sure I kept my promise. He would linger for hours, sometimes days, before finally leaving me alone in the cement hell I wanted nothing more than to escape from.
Sitting in a cold metal chair, I ate at a make shift table Bull had made me from cardboard boxes. A cold ham sandwich, room temperature milk, and a cup of chicken broth wasn’t exactly a feast for kings, but at the time, it felt like it was.
True to my word, I consumed every crumb and every drop of liquid there was. I was far from full, but it would have to do. Once again, I had no other choice. I still don’t know what was worse––being stripped of my freedom and not being able to use my own mind, or having my body treated like a disgusting plaything, being tossed from one man to the next.
Carefully placing the bowl back down on the table I looked over at Saint, whose broad frame was blocking the only way out. “There’s no more left.”
“I’ll have them bring more.”
“No.” The word flew from my mouth before my brain could even register what had happened.
His elongated frame stepped further into the room. “Be careful, Mouse. I swear I just heard you tell me no.”
My hands began to shake as I twisted them into my shirt. “I–I didn’t finish.”
“Then continue,” he said, giving me permission to speak as he waved his hand through the air.
“No, thank you. I’m full. Honest.”
“Hmmm.” Saint stood staring down at me with his black eyes, studying my every move. Steeling my nerves, I willed my eyes to hold his gaze. If I faltered, he would know I was lying. “Fine. Next time you’ll eat more, and then we can forgo the pleasantries of manners. I wouldn’t want to you to accidently slip up with another pleasantry for me.”
I watched as he left the room, closing and locking the thin door behind him. Quietly making my way to the door, I softly pressed my ear against it, listening for any sign that I wasn’t alone. Outside my room was still, not one breath or footstep could be heard. I was finally alone once again.
My body collapsed to the floor in a ball as sobs tore from my lungs. Maybe I should’ve chosen the brink of death, I silently pondered. There’s no way he could keep me alive while torturing me for so long, could he?
I’m not sure how many days had gone by since Saint had his hands on me. It didn’t feel like quite long enough. Food, water, and a bucket for me to piss in were brought into the room every morning, and every evening they would take it away. I was covered in filth. Dirt from the floors and mattress cl
ung to the cold sweat that beaded down my back. Thoughts of a hot shower swarmed through my mind. I would’ve given anything for a bucket of clean water and soap.
Near the ceiling, I watched as the sun peaked through the small window. Reaching my fingers toward it, I marveled in its warmth. It’s funny how you can be freezing yet sweating at the same time. Another downfall of living in fear.
Just then, loud footsteps echoed above me, followed by a number of deep voices. Something was happening upstairs. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it sounded like Bull was pissed about something. After having spent so much time around him in the beginning, I could now clearly discern his gravel-like voice from all the others.
Without warning, the basement door slammed against the wall causing me to seek shelter under the blanket on my bed. I desperately wanted to hide, to blend into the walls around me and never be found again, but fate was never my friend. Another crash sounded just outside my door. The thin door was a horrible sound barrier, so I could hear everything they were saying. The argument was over some new guy in the house.
“She belongs to whomever I feel like giving her to, Bull. Move out of my way!”
“You’re not listening to me––I fucking know him!” Bull snapped. “If you let him in here everything you fucking have, everything you think you got a fucking hold of, it’s gonna be gone. You let him in here, you let him in there with her––you might as well sign our fucking death warrants. He’ll come for us. Trust me. I’d rather you kill me now, than let him in there.”
The lock on my door released and I clung desperately to the wall beside me. Bull was scared and that frightened me to my core. The only person I’ve ever witnessed him cower to was Saint. Knowing there was someone else coming who he feared even more gave me chills. The icy sweat on my neck slid down my spine as I held my breath.
“I won’t tell you again, boy. I know who he fucking is. I also know who sent him here. Don’t be scared of what you don’t understand. This is our chance to be recognized––to be rewarded for all we do for him. Now, you can either move willingly, or I can put a bullet between your eyes. Your call.” Saint’s voice was laced with venom.
My door slowly opened, revealing Bull on his knees with a gun pressed to his forehead. His hands were grasping Saint’s hands, which were wrapped tightly around the trigger. “You’re fucking insane!” Bull shouted. “We might as well die. You’ll regret this.”
Saint’s lips curled into a sneer as he looked down at him. “Will I?”
A slight click was heard, and I closed my eyes, expecting to hear the worst. To my shock, the gun never went off. Instead, another set of footsteps slowly made their way down the stairs, followed by a chillingly smooth, calm voice. “Is there a problem, Saint? Having trouble keeping your boys in line?”
Saint lowered the gun and straightened his back before turning to face the man standing behind him. The only thing I could see was the side of the man’s thick neck and the edge of his jaw. From where I sat, I could just barely make out a tattoo that was etched into his skin, but I couldn’t see enough detail to make out the image. The man’s jaw tightened as he looked down at Bull who brushed himself off quickly before standing, blocking more of my view.
“No problem here. You’ll find all my men obey,” Saint muttered, his voice laced with authority.
“Huh––your men?” the stranger huffed. “And here I thought we all worked for Ox.” Sitting up, I crossed my legs in front of me and stretched my neck in an attempt to see around Bull, who was still blocking the doorway.
Saint’s slick tongue licked the air, “When I say my men, I meant his, of course. Bull was just making sure the room was to your liking, that’s all.”
Stepping aside, Bull allowed the man to enter my room. My eyes flashed to his and I immediately lowered them. Embarrassment and fear mixed within me. I’m better than this and yet, here I am, sitting on a dirty mattress, in a cold basement, watching men argue about whether or not to allow a man into my room.
“What am I looking at?” the man asked.
“That is Mouse. She’s just a little present we like to gift to people of a certain stature. Consider her a house-warming present.” My blood boiled at Saint’s words. I wanted so badly for his death to be at my hands.
Bull quickly spoke from behind the man, staring at me as he took a couple steps back into the dimly lit hallway. “Tell me right now––is he here? Has he come for me?”
The man chuckled as I watched his feet come nearer to me. Without turning around to face Bull, his reply, laced with unspoken promises, fell from his lips. “No, I’m here. But he knows you’re here. If I were you, I wouldn’t run. He likes hunting these days. Now, leave us.”
Doing as ordered, I heard the door softly clicked shut. I realized I’d been holding my breath when spots began to appear out of the corner of my eyes. I gasped for air, hating myself for it at the same time. Why does my body continually betray me? I don’t want to live anymore.
“Don’t be scared. I won’t touch you. He’d kill me if I tried. I think you might be good for him––give him something new to focus on.”
Looking up, I found gentle eyes staring down at me. For a moment, I confused the kindness in his eyes for sadness. I had almost forgotten what it looked like. The bed creaked from the strain of his weight as he sat down near my feet. “Now, I ain’t gonna’ lie to you, he’s not the same man anymore. He’s broken right now, and this may push him over the edge. But I promise, neither of us will hurt you. In fact, this is going to hurt me more than you. I’ve gotta leave you here for a bit. I need you to make it look as though I didn’t want you.”
I tried desperately to make sense of what he was trying to tell me, but none of it made any sense at all. Out of everything he said, I understood two things. One, he wouldn’t touch me. The second was that there was a ‘he’ that Bull desperately feared, and that the man on my bed regarded highly. In that moment, it felt like the ‘he’ was two different people. Maybe they are. Then again, maybe I was more confused that I thought.
“Now, I know you don’t know me, so you don’t owe me any favors, but now would be a good time to let out a couple of screams. Maybe even a tear or two,” the man added with a shrug.
I stared blankly at the man in front of me. Just then, his hand reached towards me and I let loose a bloodcurdling scream that echoed around us. Pushing myself away from him, tears began to fall of their own volition, washing away some of the dirt caked upon my cheeks. I don’t know if he was really going to touch me or not, but just knowing his hand was coming towards me was enough for me to give him what he wanted.
A soft sigh fell from his lips as he pulled his hand back. “Sorry––it didn’t look like you understood what I was saying. I had to make you scream. I needed to make it seem real. I hate leaving you here knowing what they’re going to do to you, what they’ve already done, but it’s the only way. He’ll fix this. You’ll see.” Standing from my bed, I watched wide-eyed as the man walked back toward the door. My mouth fell open in shock at the realization that he’d kept his promise. He never touched me.
Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled at me. “Now you get it. I’ll be back. By the way, the name’s Jim. They shouldn’t touch you anymore. If they do––well, let’s just say, I wouldn’t want to be them when I get back.”
Jim. It was a real name. Not some nickname some random fuck pulled from his dick. No, it was a real name. A normal name. A name I would never forget, as I sat praying he would keep his promise and come back for me.
Fuck this God damn motel, I thought to myself as I stared around at the filthy motel room. I hated these fucking things. They were always filthy, they smelled like shitholes, and they were crawling with so much DNA you could probably create a new person with it. Disgusting. The mere thought made me shiver in disgust. We had been holing up in the dark, bacteria-ridden room for over a week. We rolled in late one evening. That night, I decided we needed a plan to see just how ea
sy it was to find him. We came to an agreement that night that it would be best for Jim to test the waters first. My feet would have made too big of a wave. I wasn’t looking to scare Brendan away. At least not right away.
Time had slipped well past the forty-eight-hour mark the bureau had given me, but after some pleading on my part, Beckett extended my time, though not by much. I needed in that house. I paced in front of the long, thick yellow curtains shadowing the room. I don’t know what it was about the dark, but I had always felt more comfortable in darkness. Maybe it was because I belonged with the things that went bump in the night. The only light that glimmered in the room was the reflection from the chrome on my bike, which was parked just outside. Ever since the night Jim’s stepfather fell to the tracks, I’ve considered myself a monster. Maybe that’s why I prefer the darkness, I thought to myself. The only time I ever felt lighter was when I was with Arlington.
Reaching into my back jeans pocket, I pulled out the picture I had clipped from a magazine over a year ago. After she came to me, asking me to let her go, I did just that. I didn’t have any connection to her anymore, and anyone I had watching her simply walked away. My stomach sank, as my heart grew a little darker.
The picture had been taken on some fancy beach where all the rich people gather, or that’s how I imagined it. There she was––the girl I wanted so desperately to be mine, staring up at someone else. Not just anyone else. He was her rock star. Thinking about it now, I know she would have always chosen him. It would never have been me.
Arlington was holding her husband’s hand, smiling up at him, as they walked along the water’s edge. Three little boys ran in front of them. Two looked just like her husband. The oldest, however, was a mix of Arlington’s brother and her. But there was also something that didn’t belong to any of them. There was a dimple with his smile and a mischievous glint in his eye. He got those from me.
